After Bonnie Died
by KateMartin
Summary: What if it had been Scarlett, not Melanie, who visited Rhett's room to persuade him to allow Bonnie's burial?
1. After Bonnie died

It had been three days since Bonnie's death. Though it felt like forever, thought Scarlett wearily to herself. She had scarcely slept or eaten since that horrible moment when her darling daughter's life had ended so abruptly, and the nights and days blurred into one horrible nightmare. When not lying in bed staring at the ceiling she wandered the house listlessly. There had been callers of course, come to pay condolences, but she had not been able to find words to say to them. Melly's well meaning sympathy had brought such a painful lump to her throat that she had had to clamp her teeth together to prevent herself from wailing. She felt that her whole world had collapsed around her, that things would never be alright again. For once she did not resent her solemn black mourning clothes. Indeed she felt she might wear them forever.

At the time of Bonnie's accident she had screamed at Rhett that he had killed her. He had gone very quiet and still. Then he had turned without a word and locked himself in his room with Bonnie's body. He had stayed there ever since, refusing admittance to anyone, barely replying to those who tried to speak to him.

Scarlett had initially not wanted to see Bonnie's body, she could not bear the thought of seeing her favourite child as a corpse, so she had let him be. She longed for him to comfort her, but the distance between them meant that was a ridiculous thing to hope for.

But now Rhett's mother had arrived and the funeral was set for the morning. Mammy had told Scarlett with tear filled eyes that Rhett was still refusing everyone admittance to his room and was threatening to not allow the funeral to proceed.

With a tired sigh Scarlett climbed the stairs to his room and knocked on Rhett's door. There was no response.

'Rhett', she called through the door, 'your mother has arrived. The funeral is set for the morning'.

'Over my dead body', he growled, and the hard tone of his voice sent a cold shudder down Scarlett's spine.

'Rhett, be reasonable', she begged. No answer. She sighed. She was lightheaded from lack of sleep and lack of food. She leaned against the door frame for support.

'Please Rhett, let me in, I want to see Bonnie'. No answer. She took a deep breath and tried again.

'Rhett', she said tiredly, 'I don't have the strength to argue with you. You have no right to keep me from my own daughter. Please let me in.'

There was a pause, then the sound of floorboards creaking. The key turned in the lock and the door swung open. An unpleasant odour accousted Scarlett's nostrils. Rhett stood there, holding the doorhandle, swaying a little. Scarlett's eyes widened at the sight of him. He was so disshevelled, so wild looking, so different from his usual debonair self that she scarcely recognised him. Quickly she recovered herself and stepped into the room before he could shut her out again. He closed and locked the door behind her and stood leaning against it, eyeing her warily.

She in turn stood gaping at him wordlessly. His clothes were crumpled, there was stubble on his chin, his eyes were bloodshot and there were dark rings under them. His hair was not brushed. She could smell stale sweat and whisky on him. The sight of him so altered disturbed her, and she felt her heart pounding in her chest, though she was not sure why.

He continued to return her stare and she wondered suddenly if she looked as bad as him.

Rhett's voice broke into her thoughts. He said tonelessly, 'I believe you wanted to see Bonnie', and he waved his arm in the direction of their daughter's body.

Scarlett approached the body hesitantly. This cold, pale, blotchy thing could not be her beloved daughter. She caught her breath and turned away, struggling for control. But she could not hold back her tears. She stood with her back to Rhett, sobbing uncontrollably.

She did not know how long she stood there, sobbing desolately, with her face in her hands. But she was very aware that Rhett did not come to comfort her, and it made her sob all the more.

When her tears finally slowed to the hiccup stage, she wiped her eyes and turned around. At first she did not see Rhett in the dim room. He was sitting on the floor, with his back to her, against the bed. His arms were crossed and his knees drawn up. He was rocking slightly, and Scarlett thought he looked strangely like Wade did sometimes, when he was frightened of events beyond his control.

'Rhett?' she said. But he did not respond. She moved to stand in front of him, but he gave no sign of having seen her. He did look oddly like a child, she thought, a child who needed comforting. 'Are you alright?' she asked uncertainly. Still he appeared not to be aware of her presence. Her heart beat wildly as she cautiously came closer. Slowly she sank to her knees beside him and reached out her hand to touch his arm.

At first he did not react, and she kept her hand on him uncertainly. Then slowly his fingers moved to cover hers, and he made a strange choking sound. She realised, with horror, that he was crying. He still did not look at her, and for a moment she froze, unsure what to do, unsettled by such a display of raw emotion in this man who had never before given her so much as a glimpse of his feelings. It made her feel like an intruder, and she wondered if she should leave him to grieve in private. She hesitated. As she observed him it occurred to her (rather belatedly), that while she had lost her favourite child, he had lost his adored only child. And perhaps he blamed himself for Bonnie's accident too. No wonder he looked distraught, she thought. Her grief was deep, but suddenly she understood that her own pain must be only a fraction of what he must be feeling.

Wordlessly she gathered him into her arms, pressing his head against her heart. She held him while he cried.

Finally, his breathing became more regular, and he pulled away from her. 'I am sorry', he said in a strained voice, looking away from her as he struggled to compose his features.

Scarlett watched him in a kind of stunned daze. She did not know how to treat this Rhett, so different from his usual sardonic, suave self. This Rhett was old, tired, and hurting. This Rhett was not in control, not mocking her or goading her. This Rhett, she thought, did not at all resemble the handsome, fearless blockade runner she had once known. This Rhett looked like he actually needed her.

'Rhett', she said hesitantly, 'you look tired, come and lie down a while'.

'I am very tired', he agreed, running his fingers through his hair. 'But it is difficult to sleep'.

'Yes', said Scarlett, sighing. 'I have not been sleeping well either. Come, sit on the bed and I will get you a drink'.

'Thank you,' he murmured as she passed him a whisky. And he looked at her, in a puzzled way, as if wondering who this woman was who looked like the self absorbed, uncaring woman he had married but acted so differently.

Scarlett sat hesitantly on the edge of the bed beside him and bit her lower lip as she pondered the problem of Rhett refusing to allow Bonnie's funeral. 'Rhett, Bonnie is. . is..' She bit her lip again. How could she even admit to herself that her dear daughter's body was beginning to decompose, and smelled bad. It was too painful to talk about.

'Yes, I know', he answered dully, reading her thoughts. 'But I can't bear the thought of her under the ground in the darkness.' He began to sound agitated. 'I just can't do that to her'.

There was a long silence. Scarlett frowned, then swallowed hard. 'That corpse is not Bonnie, Rhett. It's just an empty shell that once contained Bonnie. She is not there anymore. Can't you tell when you look at it that she is not there?' She paused. Rhett looked unconvinced, so she pressed on. 'Bonnie would not want you to keep that shell in your room, to watch it decay, to see it crawling with maggots. To smell that awful stench.'

'Scarlett, have mercy,' he interrupted, in an anguished voice. And he looked away, staring into the distance, his face grey.

She saw again how old and tired he looked, and her heart softened. Quietly she knelt beside him and slipped his shoes off. He looked at her in surprise, but did not speak.

'Lie down Rhett, and try to rest,' she implored.

'I can't', he answered.

He looked at her in silence for a few moments.

'Would you … ' he said hesitantly. Then he pressed his lips together and looked away again.

Scarlett's tired brain struggled to try to understand what he was trying to say. 'What, Rhett? Would I what?'

'No, it doesn't matter. Nothing.' he sighed.

'Don't shut yourself off from me,' she snapped in frustration. 'I need you.'

'You've never needed me', he answered with sudden bitterness.

'You're wrong Rhett. I do need you.'

'I wish I could believe you'.

The silence hung between them. Scarlett's eyes filled with tears. She must be very tired, she reflected, to cry so easily. But how had things got so bad between them? It all seemed so hopeless.

Suddenly Rhett reached over and softly brushed a tear off her cheek. Then he wordlessly pulled her to him and pressed his lips into her hair. His large hands stroked her back with infinite tenderness.

It had been so long since she had been in his arms, she had almost forgotten how wonderful it was to be held by him. How safe she felt, leaning into his broad, muscular chest. Silent tears coursed down her cheeks as she snuggled close to him. After a long time she lifted her face to his. 'Rhett,' she said hesitantly, 'I didn't mean what I said about . . about. . what I said the other day. I know you would never harm her. It was just a horrible accident.' She looked into his eyes and saw such depths of pain there that she was left completely speechless. For a long time neither of them spoke.

Eventually they pulled apart. Scarlett stood up awkwardly. 'I suppose we should both try to get some sleep. I will see you in the morning. Good night.' She turned to go but Rhett grasped her arm and turned her to face him.

'What I was going to say before,' he said quietly, 'is . . .would you stay with me tonight?' He looked so vulnerable as he spoke that her heart turned over. 'Of course, if you would prefer your own bed, I would understand,' he continued smoothly, attempting nonchalence. Scarlett found that her voice would not work, so she just nodded.

'You will stay?' he asked. 'I won't do anything … anything you might find disgusting'. She nodded again, a faint blush creeping over her cheeks as she recalled the events he referred to.

'Thank you, my dear', he said softly.

'I don't know how I shall bear the funeral tomorrow,' he continued, 'but it must be done.'

Scarlett nodded again, and finally found her voice. 'Bonnie would want you to be strong Rhett. We must bear it together.'


	2. The funeral

The day of the funeral dawned clear and bright.

Rhett had come down to breakfast alone, leaving Scarlett still sleeping. Though he had managed a few hours sleep with Scarlett by his side, he still felt more dead than alive. He could not eat. He merely smoked and drank coffee and stared blankly at the morning paper. There was a cold, heavy ache in his chest, and he felt vaguely nauseated. He was unsure whether it was the thought of seeing his beloved Bonnie placed in the ground, or the thought of facing Scarlett after displaying his weakness to her, that disturbed him most. He anticipated her contemptuous mocking with cold dread.

When Scarlett entered the dining room at last, he greeted her cautiously, formally. Scarlett responded in kind. A small shiver of unnamed dread ran down her back as she took her place at the table. So that was how it was going to be, she thought despairingly. We are to act like strangers. She sat in silence, nibbling unenthusiastically on a bread roll, washing it down with coffee, glancing surreptitiously at Rhett intermittently. He did not pay her any further attention.

Later, as they rode in their carriage to their daughter's funeral, Scarlett wondered bewilderedly how the sun could be shining. 'It should be gloomy and wet on such a sad day', she thought to herself. After the gloom of her own home, it made her feel disorientated and dazed, and gave a feeling of unreality to the day.

Rhett sat beside her, but they were not touching. He sat erect and silent, gazing unseeing out the opposite window. The carriage pulled to a halt at the churchyard. Rhett stepped down and handed Scarlett out. As he did so, he gripped her hand rather more firmly than necessary and their eyes met. Scarlett's chin lifted almost imperceptively as she resolved to be strong, and Rhett, who caught the gesture and its meaning, admired her.

Once all the mourners were assembled, Bonnie's little casket was carried through the crowd by four solemn pallbearers; There was her uncle Will Benteen, Doctor Meade, who had brought her into the world, Ashley Wilkes, and Rhett. They walked slowly and silently, their eyes fixed straight ahead on the gash in the red earth which was waiting to receive their burden. When they reached the grave, they gently lowered the casket to the ground, then each turned to find their places beside their wives. As Rhett took his place by Scarlett's side, their eyes met again. They each saw in the other despair and grief, coupled with grit and grim courage. And each drew strength from the other wordlessly.

The words of the service were well familiar to all those who had gathered. 'Too familiar,' thought Scarlett grimly. How often she has heard them! She could probably recite the whole service herself from memory. 'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust . . . The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away . . Blessed be the name of the Lord . . . into thy hands we commit her spirit . . .' But that was Bonnie in that box! It all seemed so unreal. She stood erect and still, not allowing herself to display any sign of emotion. People said she looked proud and unfeeling.

Rhett stood still and expressionless too, but no one accused him of not caring. They said the poor man was clearly heartbroken, but that he conducted himself with courage and dignity.

Afterwards Rhett and Scarlett stood side by side, receiving the condolences of the gathered mourners in a kind of daze. There were many moist eyes and damp handkerchiefs. Bonnie had been well liked. But Rhett and Scarlett's eyes remained dry. Then finally it was over. They retreated with relief to their carriage. As they rode home they still remained silent, gazing out opposite windows. It was over, and they had got through it. But each felt too full of emotion to speak.

When they got home they stood in their grand foyer and allowed others to help them off with their gloves, hats and coats. Then they stood there awkwardly looking despairingly at each other. 'Would you like to join me for a drink?' said Rhett at last, quietly. It was almost the first time he had spoken all day. 'Yes', answered Scarlett, in a small voice. 'Thank you.'

He lead her into the dining room, where he pulled out a chair for her. She sat down gratefully. They sat there together drinking for the rest of the afternoon, with no object in mind but to numb the pain and to forget the horror of burying their daughter. They said little.

The day wore on, a servant came in noiselessly and lit the lamps. Still they drank. Scarlett drank so much that her speech became slurred and her eyes unfocussed. Eventually she lay her head in her hands and fell into a drunken slumber at the table. Rhett was having trouble getting the whisky into the shot glass. Why do they make the glasses so damn small? he wondered to himself. He kept drinking, trying to postpone the moment when he would have to go to bed in his empty room, with no Bonnie. Abruptly he pushed back his chair and stood unsteadily to his feet. His Bonnie gone! The unfairness of it! Bonnie was the only one who truly loved him! Without her he had nothing! He began to pace back and forth in an agitated manner. How could he bear it? What was the point in going on without her? All his life he had worked and strived, for what? Anger at the injustice of it all boiled up in him and he punched the wall with a loud cry.

After that, the anger left him, and despair washed over him again. He felt immensely tired, and defeated. Tomorrow, his hand would be sore, but he was unaware of it just yet. He looked at his sleeping wife. What a fool he'd been to marry her! Yesterday he had nearly allowed himself to imagine that she cared. He laughed at himself bitterly and stumbled up the stairs to bed.


	3. Lost

_'Something was wrong with the world, a somber, frightening wrongness that pervaded everything like a dark impenetrable mist stealthily closing in around Scarlett.' -M. Mitchell_

Scarlett sat across the table from Rhett as they ate a silent meal together. He was acting like a stranger to her, and a morosely unhappy one at that. She was frightened and lonely.

Rhett's eyes were blank and distant, disinterested. She shuddered. Was this the same man who used to laugh at her and tease her? Now he seemed not even to notice her.

She knew he was drinking heavily, and as she studied him she saw it was evident in his thickening waistline, his slack jaw, his bloodshot eyes, the slight tremor in his hand. He was no longer immaculately groomed, the handsome blockade runner. No, disshevelled and unshaven, a ruin of his former self, he looked old and tired, gone to ruin.

But the sight of him so altered did not repulse her. Rather, she found to her surprise that she was concerned for him. Though she could not fathom the depths of his despair, still she understood something of his grief. If only they could comfort each other as they had the day before Bonnie's funeral! But she could not reach him.

She had tried to talk with him. He had looked at her, as if startled by her presence. Then he had sighed and said flatly 'It's too late Scarlett. Nothing matters anymore.' She shuddered at the memory.

Now she decided she must try again. 'Rhett', she began, 'please talk to me'.

'Of what should I speak?' he replied flatly, without looking at her. 'The weather?' He paused. 'Please, Scarlett, I cannot'.

They finished their meal in silence. Scarlet retired to the parlour, and Rhett to the library, and to the decanter of whisky that awaited him there.


	4. Missing you

Another lonely day, another silent dinner. Rhett was unsteady on his feet as he rose from the table to retire to the library.

Much later, Scarlett rose to retire to bed. She saw the light under the library door and paused outside. How she longed for Rhett to comfort her. Cautiously she pushed the door open. Rhett was sitting facing the fire and did not turn to look at her. 'Goodnight, Rhett', she said. 'Goodnight', he answered dully.

She hesitated at the door, before deciding to enter the room. Slowly she walked towards him to stand facing him.

'Rhett...' she began uncertainly. He frowned at her, irritated that she had disturbed his peace. 'What is it?' he said.

'I miss you.' There, she had said it.

His eyes flickered up to meet hers briefly before he looked away again. 'I am still here', he responded eventually. 'But you mean, I suppose, that you miss the person I used to be. Well that is your misfortune. If you were not such a fool you would have enjoyed my company before it was too late'.

'Too late?' she echoed.

'Yes', he responded. 'Too late. I am not that person anymore, and I have nothing left to give.'

'Nothing?' she echoed stupidly.

'Just go to bed, Scarlett', he sighed.

Scarlett's temper flared. 'Stop shutting me out Rhett! I am still here too, in case you hadn't noticed. Pull yourself together. Moping about like this is not going to change what has happened. You will drink yourself to death if you carry on as you have been.'

Rhett didn't even look at her. 'Perhaps that is what I want', he answered tiredly. 'Besides, correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought you were the one who shut me out?'

He had her there. She had shut him out, banning him from her bed. She had regretted it almost as soon as she had done it. She had not anticipated how much she would miss him. But how could she tell him that?

'I'm sorry Rhett', she whispered.

He did look at her then. A long searching look. Then he sighed heavily and looked away without speaking.

The silence stretched out. Rhett sat, staring into the distance, and Scarlett stood before him, unsure whether he would respond or not.

Eventually, when she realised he had no intention of speaking further, she stepped forward and surprised him by kissing him lightly on the cheek, her hand resting gently on his shoulder as she did so. 'Goodnight, Rhett', she said sadly as she withdrew and headed up to her lonely bedroom.


	5. Night visitor

Rhett poured himself another drink. His hands were shaking so much he could hardly get the whisky into the glass. Had Scarlett really just kissed him? He was badly shaken and his alcohol soaked brain was having trouble thinking clearly. He knew though, that he had not imagined that kiss. He could still feel the warm tenderness of her lips on his cheek – even the soft touch of her fingertips on his shoulder. His heart thudded painfully in his chest.

What did she want? What was she up to? She had looked so sad. His heart ached. How had it come to this, when he had so wanted her to be happy?

Scarlett lay awake in her bed. Sleep did not come easily to her these days. She heard the squeak of the library door when Rhett eventually decided to retire for the night. She heard his tread on the stairs, for he was heavier on his feet than before. She waited to hear his bedroom door click shut behind him. But instead, she heard her own bedroom door being pushed open. Rhett was in her room! Was he so intoxicated that he couldn't find his own bed? Or was he coming to have his way with her, as on another drunken evening? Her heart thudded loudly. She lay still in the dark, scarcely daring to breathe. As he walked towards the bed she shut her eyes, feigning sleep. She heard him very near to her, the light of his candle was shining on her face. She waited, hardly daring to breathe, but nothing happened. She dared to open her eyes a fraction, and she saw him standing, staring at her intently, swaying a little. He stood that way for a minute or two, and then, without a word, turned to leave.

As he reached the door she managed to find her voice. 'Wait, Rhett!', she called, sitting up in bed as she did so. Slowly he turned to look at her. She could not read his expression in the candle light. He stood there, one hand on the door knob, half turned towards her. He still did not speak.

'Rhett..' she said uncertainly. Rhett stood unmoving. In truth he could not move. He half wanted to flee from her, but the other half of him wanted to go her. He had never felt so vulnerable and confused in his life, and he didn't like it at all.

Scarlett threw back the covers and cautiously approached him as if he was a skittish horse. Reaching him, she stood in front of him. She could sense his tension. He was breathing heavily and scowling at her. But, she reflected, he was still there. He had come into her room to see her and he was still there.

'You are welcome here,' she said quietly. He continued scowling at her. Slowly, wordlessly, she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her body to his, her cheek resting on his broad chest. She could hear his heart racing. Her breath caught as she felt his free arm go around her, and the soft touch of his lips in her hair.

Neither knew how long they stood pressed against each other, not wanting to let go. Rhett was the first to move. But when Scarlett saw that he was merely placing the candle on the dresser she sighed with relief. He walked back to her and for a moment they both stood, a little breathless, uncertainly eyeing each other up. 'I meant what I said earlier, Rhett,' she murmured. 'I am sorry I … shut you out.' She glanced at him nervously. 'I have missed you.'

Rhett had not spoken a word since entering the room. He was finding that he was at a rare loss for words. Being forbidden her room had wounded him so badly he doubted he would ever be able to talk about it. But he stepped towards her and gently brushed the hair off her face. He bent his head down towards hers and she tilted hers up. Their eyes met, and each felt themselves being drawn closer together, helpless to resist and not really wanting to. Their lips touched, and they kissed at first gently, hesitantly, as if they had never kissed before. But a fire had been rekindled within them which they had thought was extinguished, and it was not long before they were both well aflame.


	6. Hoping and wishing

_As a result of some constructive criticism (which is much appreciated) I have edited the end of this chapter to be more in keeping with Rhett's character. I guess I just got impatient for them to get it together!  
_

Scarlett awoke the next morning with a delicious feeling of wellbeing. Rhett had come to her! Still half asleep, she stretched out her arm towards him – but he was not there. She opened her eyes and looked around. There was no sign of him. She groaned softly to herself. Had he gone back to his own bed? Surely she had not dreamt the whole thing. But then she recalled that he was always up before her – she tried to reassure herself with the thought that maybe he had just gone down to breakfast. Hastily she swung her legs out of bed and put on her wrapper.

She padded softly along the corridor. Outside Rhett's room she paused to listen. There was no sound from within so she cautiously opened the door and peeked in. The bed was made, and clearly had not been slept in, everything was in its place. The room looked strangely bare without Bonnie's little bed.

With a sigh she turned and left, hastening downstairs.

She found him not in the dining room, but in the library, drinking. Her heart sank.

'Good morning', she said, her voice edged with concern. 'Good morning', he answered mechanically. His eyes met hers for just a fraction of a second before he looked away uneasily. She stood there uncertainly. Was he regretting coming to her last night? She had thought, had hoped, that he had come because he cared for her, but now she was not so sure. But, she thought with a pang, she cared for him. She cared for him very much. She hated to see him like this, so unhappy, so defeated.

'Are you alright, Rhett?' she asked quietly.

'Alright?' he echoed dully. 'How could I be alright?'

His question hung in the silence. Scarlett was hurt that he could be so unhappy after sharing her bed. She wanted to make him happy. She went to him and wordlessly placed her hand over his.

The silence stretched out. She saw his bloodshot eyes, his disshevelled hair, his unshaven face. She saw his discomfort. And she longed to comfort him.

'I wish I could make you happy', she whispered sadly.

'Happy! I'm not sure I can even remember what it is to be happy', he responded bitterly. .

Scarlett drew a breath as if to speak, then bit her lip pensively. Rhett raised his eyebrows questioningly.

'It would make me happy if you drank less,' she said quietly.

'Why should you care?' he snarled.

'I do care Rhett. I hate to see you like this.'

'Am I an embarrassment to you?'

'No, not that. I'm just . . it's just not good for you, that's all. You will drink yourself into an early grave if you carry on like this.'

'No one would mourn me but my mother. You would surely be delighted to be free of me and have all my money for yourself.'

Scarlett stared at him, stunned. 'No, Rhett, once, I admit, I might have thought like that. But now . . now . . . '

He looked at her curiously.

'I missed you when you went away,' she said abruptly. 'And I realised how much I cared for you.'

'Did you indeed' he asked, raising one eyebrow cynically. Then he tipped his head back and drained his glass, avoiding her eyes.

He stood up then, and bowing to her, said 'I am going out for a walk. Please excuse me.'


	7. Chapter 7

Rhett was out for most of the day, and Scarlett was left alone with her thoughts. And her thoughts were all centred on Rhett. Earlier in their marriage, he had seemed so successful, so confident in his own skin, so arrogant and self sufficient, that she had thought he was unshakeable. He had not seemed to need anybody, and certainly not her. Scarlett had hated his jeering at her, laughing at her for not knowing all the things he knew, teasing her about her devotion to Ashley Wilkes. It had been easy to dislike him when he was so unpleasant, and she had often wondered why he had married her, when he displayed such lack of affection towards her. But now it was obvious to all, even to Scarlett, that Rhett Butler was not the man he used to be, before his cherished daughter's death. Now he was so withdrawn, so moody, so fragile, that Scarlett found herself paradoxically drawn to him. She began to realise how he had helped her through many of her difficult times, and wished she could do the same for him. She found that she wanted to comfort him and help him heal. If only he would let her! But he seemed so distant from her that she despaired.

He came home in time to join Scarlett for another silent dinner and now she studied him covertly as he ate, wondering where he had been and whether he had been drinking. Rhett steadfastly ignored her. How she longed for the easy camaraderie of their early acquaintance.

After dinner, he dabbed his lips lightly with the napkin then rose as usual and excused himself, saying he would retire to his library for the evening.

"Shall I join you Rhett?" asked Scarlett suddenly, as he turned towards the door.

Rhett turned back to face her. "No," he replied, frowning, 'that won't be necessary.'

He turned to leave again but the sound of her voice arrested his progress. "Do you despise me so much you cannot bear to be in the same room as me for an entire evening?" she asked, hoping that her voice did not tremble as she spoke.

Again Rhett turned toward her. He looked genuinely shocked. "No, of course not," he replied.

"Well, then why. . ." Scarlett paused, then hurried on "why do you avoid me?"

Rhett opened his mouth to reply, but for a moment no words came. Scarlett looked so alluring, standing there, her emerald eyes pleading with him, her delicate hands clasping and unclasping nervously, that his mouth went dry. It wasn't that he wanted to avoid her, quite the opposite! He wanted to take her in his arms right there. It was just . . . Eventually he drew a breath, and responded carefully "I am not sure I can explain myself, but perhaps after all you had better come and join me for a drink in the library, and I will try."

A fire had been lit in the library and Scarlett stared into it impatiently as Rhett slowly imbibed his second whisky. He had said he was going to speak with her, but so far he had not said a word, other than to offer her a drink.

Eventually he set his glass down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. She turned to look at him expectantly. Finally he spoke.

"I am sorry, Scarlett. I am poor company. Perhaps that is why I don't wish to inflict myself on you."

"I've always enjoyed your company, Rhett", she answered quietly.

"We both know that is not true", he sighed, thinking of all the nights she had shut him out. Scarlett bit her lower lip selfconsciously.

She tried again. "But I do miss you," she said.

Rhett stared into the fire. "I miss Bonnie," he answered.

"I know," she said. "I miss her too."

He thought of the aching emptiness inside him, the paralysing grief that made even the simplest of tasks a struggle, the pain that came to him whenever he saw the vacant place in his bedroom where her bed had been, the sleepless nights, the despair which greeted him every morning when he woke up and realised again that she was gone, the pull towards oblivion that drink offered. But he could not talk about any of that with Scarlett. It was too raw, too private. He didn't expect her to understand.

Scarlett's voice cut across his thoughts. "I wish I could help you," she said wistfully.

He did not give any sign of having heard her. In fact he continued to stare into the fire for so long she began to wonder if he was wishing she would go away. Eventually she stood up and said uncertainly, "perhaps I should leave you in peace."

He didn't reply so she let herself out quietly, and went to sit alone in the parlour.

Rhett felt bereft when she left. But how could he admit to her his need? He felt so empty inside, he had nothing to offer her. Though he longed for her, he was afraid to trust her with his fragile heart.


	8. A visit with Melly

_Hi all my loyal readers. I decided to post this next chapter the same day as chapter 7 because not much happened in chapter 7. Hope you enjoy it!_

Scarlett slept poorly that night. Her thoughts went around and around. Did Rhett dislike her company? He seemed to just ignore her most of the time. She wished she knew how to please him. Of course he missed Bonnie. But she missed Bonnie too. And she missed Rhett. If only she knew what to do.

In the morning she felt fuggy headed and irritable. Rhett had breakfasted before her and she did not see him. She felt like she needed to get out of the house, but she knew if she went to the store she wouldn't be able to concentrate on the figures. She decided to go for a walk to help clear her head and order her thoughts.

The day was warm and sunny and she walked without thinking where she was going. She found herself at the cemetery. At Bonnie's grave she stood quietly. A hard lump formed in her throat. How she missed her darling girl! How hard life was! And how hard that people thought her unfeeling. I do feel, she thought grimly to herself. But no one cares.

Melly cares – the thought came to her unbidden. Melly! Yes, she thought, I will go and visit Melly! Of course, she wouldn't be able to tell Melly about Rhett's drunkenness and the shocking state of her marriage, but it would be pleasant just to spend some time with someone who cared about her.

She turned with fresh resolve and set out for the Wilkes' house.

Melly's eyes crinkled with pleasure at the sight of Scarlett at her door. 'Why, Scarlett, what a lovely surprise. Please, won't you come in and have coffee with me?'

Scarlett breathed out the breath she didn't realise she'd been holding. 'Thank you, Melly, I would like that,' she responded warmly.

Melly asked after the children, and Rhett. Scarlett reported that the children were well. She didn't admit that she had not seen much of Wade and Ella lately but she supposed someone would have told her if they were not well. She said that Rhett had taken Bonnie's death very badly, but did not elaborate.

'Poor Captain Butler,' Melly responded. 'Yes,' answered Scarlett. 'I wish I knew how to help him.' 'It takes time, dear, to get over a loss like that,' Melly responded. 'All you can do is be there for him. Be kind to him, and … 'She stopped suddenly and blushed. 'I'm sorry,' she said, 'I don't mean to be presumptious, telling you how to care for your own husband.'

'I don't know, Melly,' Scarlett shrugged. 'Sometimes I don't seem to be very good at it. Nothing I say seems to get through to him.' Melly's blush deepened. But she leaned close and rested her delicate little hand on Scarlett's lap. 'Sometimes with Ashley,' she murmured, 'I find that touching him and holding him says so much more than words ever could.'

Scarlett looked at her in shock. She would never have imagined that Melly would say something so forward. Feeling awkward and a little foolish, Melly hurried to change the topic.

She chatted on, filling Scarlett in on the latest community happenings, and laughing about Beau's exploits. Scarlett said little, but she was glad to be in Melly's warm and welcoming presence. Eventually Melly stopped talking. Scarlett looked at her, and remembered her manners. 'And you, Melly? How are things with you?' Melly smiled and her eyes danced. Scarlett looked at her curiously. 'What is it?' she asked.

'Oh Scarlett, I can't talk about it. But something very wonderful has happened to me', she said.

'Something wonderful?' Scarlett echoed. She looked at her in puzzlement. 'What can you mean Melly?'

'Can't you guess?' Melly answered, beaming from ear to ear. Unbidden, the memory of Melly's words after Bonnie had been born popped into Scarlett's head. She had said 'the happiest days are when babies are born'. But that was impossible. Melly couldn't be expecting! Could she?

'You can't guess can you? Never mind, you'll find out soon enough', Melly teased gaily.

Scarlett just looked at her dumbly. She couldn't be … no, it wasn't possible. She refused to even think about that.

Frantically she cast around for another topic. 'And how is your garden, Melly?' she blurted. Melly smiled at her understandingly. Of course she would be too modest to discuss pregnancy, even with her own sister-in-law.

The rest of the visit passed pleasantly enough, as they discussed herbs and vegetables and flowers. After they had gone out to admire Melly's garden, Scarlett took her leave. 'Thank you, Melly, it's been so lovely to visit with you,' she said affectionately. It was true, she realised. It had been pleasant to spend some time with a friend who cared about her. It had been good to discuss her problems, she felt somehow better able to face them again, knowing that Melly was there for her. She thought about Melly's advice. She longed to have more physical contact with Rhett, but his manner just did not invite it. As for that other thing that Melly had hinted at – well, she wouldn't think about that for now. Perhaps it was not what it had sounded like. Yes, that must be it. Besides, with all her worry about Rhett, she found she didn't have energy left to worry about Melly -or even Ashley. If Melly was … well, she would probably be fine. She had survived having Beau, after all. And strangely, the thought of Ashley being intimate with Melly didn't really disturb her the way she had thought it might. But, not being analytical, she did not stop to wonder why that might be.


	9. Scarlett takes Melly's advice

That evening Scarlett didn't ask Rhett if he would like company. She just followed him to his study and sat down in an armchair near his. He offered her a drink, and poured himself one. Then he sat and drank slowly and silently. After that he smoked a cigar.

Eventually Scarlett's resolve not to speak before him wore out.

'How was your day Rhett?' she asked.

'It was just another day, much like all the others', he frowned. 'Certainly nothing worth talking about.' As he spoke he saw that his rebuff had hurt her. There were a few seconds of silence before he said quietly, 'I'm sorry, my dear, I don't mean to hurt you.' He wished he could tell her about the hopelessness that threatened to engulf him. But she was too concrete, too practical. He didn't expect her to understand. And besides, he reminded himself, she was the cause of it. If only he had not married her in the first place, then he would never have known her rejection. And he would never have had Bonnie, so would have been spared the pain of losing her.

Scarlett watched him. Did his fingers tremble? He looked so bleak her heart ached for him. 'I went to visit Melly today,' she said.

'Ah, and how is Mrs Wilkes?' he answered absently.

'She seemed well. She was very happy about something, but she wouldn't tell me what it was.'

Rhett's eyes met hers with sudden interest. 'Indeed?' he responded.

'Yes'. Scarlett bit her lip. She could not possibly discuss her suspicions with Rhett.

But Rhett had no such scruples. 'So she is with child then,' he said, frowning. Then bitterly, 'Your darling Ashley must have broken his sacred vow to remain true to you.'

'Rhett!' Scarlett exclaimed. He was trying to upset her, she realised. But suddenly she found she didn't care about Ashley any more. It was Rhett she cared about. Remembering Melly's advice she reached over and cautiously placed her hand over Rhett's. Rhett's breath caught as she touched him. 'He is not my darling Ashley, and there were no promises made between us. It was only you I made promises to,' she said quietly.

'Yes, and look where that has got us,' he sighed. But with his free hand he gently traced his finger over Scarlett's hand.

'Did I ever tell you that you have beautiful hands?' he asked suddenly

'No, I don't believe you did,' she answered. 'You certainly didn't like them when they had callouses on them.'

'I would have kissed every one of those callouses if I had thought you cared about me,' he answered sadly.

'I could wish them back again to have that pleasure,' she breathed. 'I think I did care about you then, I just didn't realise it. I was a fool.'

She was leaning towards him. He could smell her delicate scent, he could see the rise and fall of her cleavage as she breathed. His grip on her hand tightened, and his breath began to come faster. No other woman affected him quite like Scarlett did. Then her free hand came up and touched his cheek. 'Now I know how very much I care about you,' she whispered.

'Scarlett,' he murmured. Her lips were so close to his, he wanted to lean in and kiss her. What was she up to? Could he trust her?

But then she let her hand fall to her lap and straightened. He hated himself for the aching loss he felt as she moved away. Carefully he schooled his face into blandness.

But her next words set his heart racing. 'Rhett,' she said seriously, 'I have had enough of separate bedrooms. It was a stupid idea. I have missed you so much. I wish to share my bed with you again. Not just for tonight, but all the time, like we used to.' She looked at him with such undisguised hope in her eyes that his heart turned over. Dare he hope?

'Please?' she asked.

With monumental effort Rhett managed to maintain his calm detached manner.

'My pet, have I ever denied you anything you have asked for?' he answered nonchalantly.


End file.
